Guilty Pleasures
by Fallenbelle2
Summary: "Well, yes. I mean, I suppose it is rather embarrassing in a way, but it is most relaxing and something prosaic is just the thing to take my mind off of more pressing matters.


Title: Guilty Pleasures

Author: Fallenbelle

Rating : K+

Notes: _Tristan_ was a real novel published in 1903. The Popular Science article _"The Value of Teeth as a Means of Identification,"_ was a real article in the June 1904 issue of Popular Science. As for William's reading material? These were genuine ads taken out in _The Oregonian_ from 1901 to 1909 and were found in a recent piece on _Mental Floss_. Who's to say that similar ads weren't placed in Toronto? Just pointless fluff. Since I suspect that we'll be getting some heavy angst next week, I thought this would be a fun way to get ready for the sorrows. I wrote this to shake off some cobwebs and try to get my writing mojo back.

Spoilers: None specific, other than they're married.

Disclaimer: Don't own MM, no puppies were harmed in the making of this story, yada, yada, yada.

* * *

It was their typical post dinner ritual: reading. What they each read would vary, as sometimes William would read either a scientific journal or the more pedestrian Scientific American, while Julia would often read a medical journal or whichever novel was currently popular. Sometimes they would share interesting tidbits with one another, but they usually just silently read to themselves, merely enjoying one another's company before going to bed.

Presently, she was reading Thomas Mann's _Tristan,_ a novella modeled after the tale of Tristan and Isolde, but this tale featured two patients in a sanatorium and dealt heavily with psychological matters. Despite it being related to a topic that intrigued her, Julia just wasn't in the mood for literature tonight. Besides, she didn't think the translation was particularly good either, and couldn't help but think that William would probably be able to read it in the original German, and then explain it to her, as she was convinced that he had probably just failed to mention to her that he spoke German, probably having taught it to himself one weekend.

No, tonight, she wanted something lighter and easier. A palate cleanser for the mind of sorts, an amuse-bouche for one's intellect she supposed.

Tossing the small book aside, she looked for the newspaper William had been reading before dinner. The society and gossip columns would be the perfect things to clear her mind for this evening.

Having once been a fixture in these columns herself, Julia took delight at the sordid affairs of others being exposed for all and sundry to gaze and comment upon. In fact, she believed that the Germans even had a word for this sentiment: schadenfreude, or delight at the misfortune of others.

But she digressed. She wanted that newspaper!

Only it wasn't where William had left it. Looking around, she finally found it-in her husband's hands! Cocking her head to the side, she looked at him quizzically. Something was amiss- William never read the newspaper after dinner, only before! Sighing, she looked around for anything else to amuse herself with, and quickly decided that nothing else would do.

She wanted that newspaper.

Of course, she could probably just ask him for the paper and he would probably give it to her, but what if he wanted to know why she wanted the paper? She wasn't a particularly avid reader of the periodical, as she dealt with enough bad news as it was in her job, so she didn't particularly want to spend her free time reading more of the same. He knew this as she had commented upon it several times. She supposed she could always tell him the truth, but she didn't want to admit that she enjoyed such inane drivel, and no doubt William would scold her for it, telling her it was inane foolishness or the like.

She didn't care, as sometimes a lady needed banal, trivial things with which to relax.

So instead of just asking for it, she opted for a more circuitous route. She grabbed a copy of the new Popular Science and flipped through until she found an article that he might find particularly interesting: a piece that discussed the usefulness of teeth as a means of identifying individuals.

"William, did you read the article about identifying people by their teeth? Think of the implications of such a thing! This might be particularly useful in our line of work, William. It's fascinating!" she exclaimed perhaps a bit too forcefully.

She didn't know if it was fascinating or not, but she needed something to distract him with so that he would drop the newspaper and give her a chance to get it for herself.

"Hmm. Fascinating," he murmured, not moving an inch or even showing the least bit of interest in her statement.

Damn the man. He wasn't paying attention to her at all. Apparently the newspaper was far more intriguing than her or Popular Science tonight.

Glancing around and deciding that as she certainly wasn't going to take her mind off of anything tonight with some light reading, she decided that she may as well have her way with him as a means of passing the time. Adjourning to their bedroom, she quickly divested herself of all of her clothes, wearing nothing at all under her tea gown in magenta silk with the beautiful Chinese embroidery. She'd bought the piece for their honeymoon, and it remained one of his favorites, eliciting the desired reaction from him every time she slipped it on. Paradoxically, he loved the piece so much he couldn't wait to remove it from her.

Sitting across from his perch on the couch, she draped herself in a way that he couldn't help but notice, making sure the robe fell open at a most tantalizing spot between her breasts, stopping just shy of exposing her nipples.

Only, this time the gown failed to catch his attention. He remained transfixed on the newspaper, his eyes never once looking up from the broadsheet.

"William, I'm thinking of retiring early this evening," she announced.

"Hmm. Impressive," he dispassionately intoned back.

Annoyed, she crossed her arms and scowled, staring at him angrily. She was practically naked, and inviting him to enjoy marital relations with her- something they hadn't done in five days!

They hadn't been married long enough for him to have completely lost interest in her already, had they?

Sighing, Julia continued to stare at him while he read, and soon she noted the occasional smirk and even a snort or two. Furthermore, an eye roll often accompanied these gestures.

What on earth had him so enthralled that he was behaving in such a manner? She honestly couldn't think of anything that he would find that entertaining. He didn't strike her as a man who would enjoy comics, and to the best of her knowledge, the paper didn't have a regular humor column, so what was it?

Deciding that he wasn't the only one who could be a detective, she got up and walked around him, moving to stand behind his chair, where he remained engrossed in what he was reading.

Glancing over his shoulder, she noted that he remained unaware of her current position, and continued with his reading. Expecting to find some arcane political cartoon, she was surprised to find that he wasn't reading anything of the like at all. No, the man was reading the "Missed Connections/Personals" section of the classifieds.

William Murdoch was interested in missed connections and personals? He couldn't be interested in such things, could he? Was it for a case? Or maybe he was bored with their relationship and was looking for an arrangement to satisfy his needs.

Surely he wasn't, but what if he was? What needs was she not meeting? She had to know!

"William?" she asked standing behind his chair, looking over his shoulder.

William froze, and she immediately knew that she'd discovered something that he would have preferred to remain a secret.

"Julia."

"William. What are you reading?"

"Um, I was, well, I was reading the newspaper and I, well…"

"Yes, William. We've established that. You're reading the personals and the missed connections. Why?" she asked.

Taking a deep breath, William set the paper on his lap and squared his shoulders. "Well, Julia, they entertain me. I mean, they're amusing; here, look at this ad, this person is just deluded, pointing to a particular ad as he read it.

 _"Wanted: wife. Farmer's daughter preferred, willing to marry poor man. Must be good girl, good-looking, weight 100 or under, no grafters."_

"He's hardly a catch now is he? Yet he has unreasonable demands. I truly wonder if he'll receive any responses, or even if he does, I would seriously question their intelligence," he exhaled. "Here, look at this ad," he continued.

 _"Young widow, age 28 with $10,000: lady 20, with $50,000: lady 25, $15,000, blonde 18, cash and beautiful farm. I seek honorable husbands for all these. Contact Mrs. W, Chicago."_

"Who on earth is going to respond to such an ad? Certainly no one honorable, that's for sure. Or I sincerely doubt that Mrs. W is even all that honorable" he snorted.

"Or this one, here; it almost actually makes you feel sorry for the poor man. But just how many occupations does he plan on excluding?" he asked with a laugh.

 _"Gentleman of 30 would like to meet or correspond with a widow or maid; strictly confidential, no triflers, no waitresses, shooting gallery clerks, or lady barbers will be considered. Object: Matrimony."_

"William, do you mean to tell me that you are reading these classified advertisements for purposes of amusement? That you take pleasure in them?" Julia asked.

"Well, I suppose that I do. Julia, come on, you have to admit that these sorts of things can be quite entertaining," he explained, almost defensively, and suddenly nervous that she might rebuke him.

On the contrary, she was actually quite pleased that her extraordinary husband was in fact a normal person.

"Indeed I do," Julia replied. I just didn't think that you were the sort who sought such amusements, it just surprises me is all," she reassured him, sitting on the arm of the chair next to him.

"Well, yes. I mean, I suppose it is rather embarrassing in a way, but it is most relaxing and something prosaic is just the thing to take my mind off of more pressing matters. I suppose it's some sort of embarrassing inclination, and I'd prefer it if you didn't mention it to anyone, but seeing as you're my wife, and we don't hide things from one another, there you have it," he announced with a flourish.

"Well, yes, William. We all need something trivial to take our minds off of more challenging things, so no, while I will never admit this or any of your peccadilloes of an even more scandalous nature to anyone else," she responded with a suggestive nudge as he blushed at her implication, "I will admit to secret pleasure of my own."

"Oh, do you mean your interest in the Society and Gossip columns," he asked. Why didn't you just ask? They're right here," he offered, flipping over to another page and handing it to her.

"You mean, you knew that I enjoyed reading such senseless drivel?" she asked.

"Well, yes. I didn't realize that it was a secret between us, although I never mentioned it to anyone else because I didn't know if you wanted that disclosed," he admitted.

Stunned, she sat there for a few moments before shrugging her shoulders. Had she forgotten whom she had married? Her husband was none other than one of the King's greatest detectives, of course. "It seems that we both have our guilty pleasures, as it were," she finally stated with a nod.

"Yes, I guess you could call it that. Would you like to read some of the more scandalous gossip to me, or should I regale you with some of the more desperate advertisements?" he offered.

"You could regale me I suppose, but then you would miss a connection of your very own in our bedroom," she countered as she stood up.

For the first time since dinner, he truly looked at her and realized just exactly how she was dressed, or rather how she was not.

"Oh, I see. I believe I've found another way to distract my mind," he replied, standing up himself while tossing the now forgotten paper aside to pull her towards him.

"I was hoping you would say that," she murmured before he covered her mouth with his.


End file.
